waitress

i was sitting in a cafe the other day. having just placed my order with the incompetent waitress, i sat ignoring B and V's blather while something gnawed at the edge of my consciousness. after 10 minutes, i realized what it was. a waitress. we had a waitress! everywhere you go in india, you are served exclusively by men, but here, now, was an actual waitress. you do see women working in banks and offices, but never in the service industry. until now. times they are a-changin'. too bad she was terrible at her job.

date aftermath

she wasn't a teeny bopper after all, and her interests did show some intersection with mine. i was hoping to score a nice dowry and close the deal, but it turns out she's a progressive indian woman, and a christian, so i'll have to keep my job.

here's a breakdown of indian women as perceived by indian men, as far as i can tell. keep in mind that i'm an ignoramus. i will stick to the tried and true baseball metaphors for male/female interaction, adding a few new ones:

batters box - meeting with a girl with the idea of evaluating compatibility, e.g. a first date
signing the contract - getting married
losing the game - ending up anywhere from miserable to resigned
winning the game - ending up anywhere from happy to in love
traded - breaking up

old fashioned country girl

signing the contract -> home run -> lose by 10 runs

traditional woman

batters box -> signing the contract -> home run -> lose by 5 runs

modern woman

batters box -> first base -> signing the contract -> home run -> possible win, but likely loss

trashy

batters box -> first base -> second base -> signing the contract -> home run -> win or lose by a small margin

slut

batters box -> first base -> second base -> third base -> signing the contract -> home run -> win or lose

whore

batters box -> first base -> second base -> third base -> home run -> signed or traded

this is why alomst all western women are considered to be whores. i suspect my date is either modern or trashy.

desi date

i've got a date tonight. with an indian. in 40 minutes. i think i asked her out by accident (to be explained later). it's actually difficult to figure out anyone i could find who i'd be less compatible with: she likes high fashion and gossip and all things euro; i like grungy travel in 3rd world hell-holes, largely to escape all the stuff she likes. she's also 12 years younger than me, though it can feel more like 20 at times. not that she's not very nice (again, unlike me). oh, this is gonna be good! gotta run...

hampi

next week the blog returns to regular update status. really.

tonight i'm taking an overnight train to the ancient holy site of Hampi. back on monday. in the meantime, travel with me through this guy (he links to pics).

happy Ganesha Chaturthi

it's the national holiday for everyone's favorite deity, lord ganesha. it's hard not to like a plump, friendly, multi-armed elephant dude who rides around on a tiny mouse. folks will be going nuts for the next few days. i might walk over to the lake later and see ganesha submerged.

identity crisis

when you're a white guy with long blond hair in india, people tend to remember you. unfortunately when you're a white guy with a shitty memory and you meet new indians almost every day, you tend to forget some of them.

this causes problems. i've been here long enough now that i run into people randomly in the street who stop and greet me, often addressing me by name. the problem is i often don't know who they are, though usually they look sort of familiar. this morning it was the guy who sold me and most of my students guitars--i've been to his shop about 5 times, but he still had to tell me who he was. and i was greeted by my old buddy girish the other day, and we're supposed to get together sometime. if only i could figure out who the hell he is.

the view from my balcony

sorry for the delay on the wedding report--been extremely busy this week. it's coming.

in the meantime...

this morning i heard someone playing drums outside my window. i ventured out onto my balcony and saw that a tightrope had been set up on the street below, the rope suspended from a few bamboo poles about 8 feet off the ground (which consists of your typical head-splitting pavement). there was no net or safety equipment of any kind.

as the man drummed away and a woman collected money, a little girl walked the tightrope doing various tricks along the way. she looked about 8 or 9. i was horrified. this girl was being exploited and put in harm's way for the gain of her parents (if they were her parents). but my neighbors were delighted--everyone seemed to enjoy the show and showered them with rupees. and i'll admit, the show was impressive. after 15 minutes, the girl's brains still safely tucked away inside her skull, the show wrapped up and moved on to the next block. i guess it's better than starving--until you die from head trauma of course. i was sorry that my camera was at the office.

heading for the wedding

yesterday i purchased a nice new khadi kurta (handmade indian shirt) to wear to the event, and i've joined the office gift pool. thus everything is taken care of. tonight i catch an overnight bus for chennai with some of my co worker buddies. the wedding is sunday at 7am--not saturday as i originally thought. not sure what the plan is on saturday, though the guys mentioned something about a "booze party" in the evening. hmm. maybe the plan is to finish a very long night at the wedding.

wedding?!

i'm invited to a wedding this weekend, but it's way the hell over in chennai (madras to you old timers) and it's saturday at 7am. yeah, that's right....7am. i also need to buy clothes and shoes to wear, and figure out a gift.

i've never been to an indian wedding. should i go? will it be a cultural experience i dare not miss, or a snoozer (which might be literal given the time of day)? if you have experince with these things help me out. i'm also getting a lot of different stories on acceptable dress. if possible, do suggest clothes and shoes i should wear and the gift i should bring. it would be nice if i could wear something that would be useful for more than indian weddings (e.g. something i could wear to work or out at night).

is cash an acceptable gift? what amount is reasonable?

youth camp

most of the people i hang out with here originally met through an organization i will call IYE (international youth exchange)*, where young people do volunteer work and live with a host family in some other country. this time of year, IYE runs a camp outside of bangalore to welcome the latest arrivals to india. B & V (the swede and the italian) & R & M2 & Y (the indian women) have all been affiliated with IYE in the past. even though most of them have nothing to do with IYE officially anymore, they enjoy visiting the camp, and this time they invited me to come along. i felt a little weird about going, given that i have nothing to do with IYE and that the Y in IYE doesn't exactly fit me to a T, but i figured it beats sitting at home with a cold. so, hopped up on cold medication, i packed a bag, grabbed my guitar, and met the gang for the ride out to camp on the outskirts of bangalore. before we got in the van, V took me aside and quagmiresquely** explained that this year's crop consisted of some 24 females and 3 males, the oldest amongst them pushing 21. I should have replied "giggity, giggity...all riiight"***, but being snotty and sick and most cripplingly of all, me, i just couldn't bring myself to become "that creepy old guy" for the weekend. I decided then and there that i'd leave that for V.

But that was before i fully appreciated the transformative effect of questionable cold medicine, hindi dance music, and the old monk (indian rum).****

to be continued.

* name altered so i don't get in trouble
** second quagmire (family guy) reference in the blog. dennis made the first. thanks dennis for opening that door.
*** third quagmire reference
**** foreshadowing used to increase readership.

a picture, proving i was there:

don't trust your pharmacist

my lastest illness turned into your basic cold. the huge pharmacy nearby looks like something from america in the 20's. the old gothic building houses old tall wooden cabinets with ovaltine ads etched in the glass panels, something from the days of british rule to be sure. these cabinets are crammed full of drugs of all sorts, seemingly haphazardly. i half expected to see mortars and pestles and someone muttering incantations. i added myself to the queueless hordes (not so fun being jammed together with sick poeple) and eventually found a space at the counter and a man who would help me. i told him i needed cold medicine, and he went off to rumage though the cabinets. after a few minutes he returned with a few sheets of pills. note that pills almost always come in those little tin foil sheets, as putting them in bottles would invite drug counterfeiting. note also that these sheets are often cut up into smaller sheets to the point where you can't read the ingredients or its MRP (retail price) or expiration date, unless you are lucky enough to get that part of the sheet. Also, dosages are never indicated on the drug as they are to be indicated by a physician. Anyway, he brought me a sheet of multi-symptom cold medication and a somthing-cillin. i asked what the something-cillin was, as the "cillin" suffix sure sounded like an antibotic to me. He confirmed it was indeed an antibiotic. he said i'm supposed to take the antibiotics along with the cold medicine. I looked at him with horror, and told him you're not supposed to take antibiotics for a cold. they are useless against viruses, i said. my rebellion was unexpected. another pharmacist backed him up. i told him i didn't want the antibiotics, purchased the cold medicine and walked home in the pouring rain. once home i realized i didn't know how many of the pills to take or how long they lasted. oh well, i would have to experiment.

anyway, somebody needs to tell indian pharmacists to stop giving antibiotics to cold sufferers or somebody needs to explain to me why i should have taken them.

sick again

god knows what kind of weird virus i have this time. i'm sweaty and i desperately want to sleep. maybe i should go home.

lumpy and me and pee

i've had a strange lump at the base of my neck for a few months now, so i finally decided i'd get it looked at. the doc poked and prodded and squeezed and teased my neck nodule, then pronounced it harmless. i could get it cut out if i liked, but he didn't recommend bothering with that unless it gets bigger or infected.

total charge for doctor visit: $0. he said he didn't need to treat me, so it's free. i never filled out a single form or gave anyone my name. i walked in (sans appointment), saw the doctor, and walked out. so easy. screw you US health care system, you bastard.

since i'll be living with this lump for a while (perhaps forever), i've named it bernard.

as bernie and i headed home, i witnessed my first female public urination since college.

happy independence day!

indian independence, that is.

it's one of the big indian holidays. everyone has the day off and the flags are flying... this is a very patriotic place. i've mentioned to several indians the common independence day bond we have, both of our countries having booted out the brits and united as democratic nations. surprisingly, this almost never fails to elicit surprise. in fact i've been told twice that i'm mistaken. i guess western history is given about as much study here as eastern history is given in the USA.

i was going to go to the freedom jam--a massive outdoor music festival, apparently the biggest in india--but the event was cancelled due to security concerns (i.e. terrorists). once again the terrorists have won, and i'm at work instead.

the party

well, B and V finally came though. the party was well attended and a success. this was truly an international event. here's the breakdown (ordered by skin color--light to dark):

1 swedish male (B)
1 swiss female (J)
1 american male (Me!)
1 italian male (V)
5 indian females (Y, M2, J, R, K)
1 indian male (P)
1 guy from dubai (M)

i was expecting something closer to 3-6 people, as B & V, until now, have always overpromised and underdelivered.



more fun facts:
1. at one point in the evening Y grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the bedroom. she pointed at R lying in a heap on the floor. it took me several moments to process what was going on. R had fainted. her eyes were half open and lifeless. i carried her limp body to the bed. i checked her noggin for blood or a massive lump she might have received hitting my very hard floor. nothing. as i was contemplating my next move she regained conciousness and apologized for fainting.
2. 4 people spent the night (not including me), the final stragglers finally leaving on sunday morning. the event began on friday, mind you.
3. those of us remaining on saturday went shopping for indian wedding wear for me. no, i'm not getting married (the party wasn't that good). i'm invited to a wedding. M2 seemed to relish her role of dressing me up like an indian prince. i drew the line at perfume and jewelry, though surprisingly i liked the glittery long scarf she insisted i wear.

i took some pictures. maybe i'll post them. (i just did.)

local girls, sort of

i met b & v and two of their indian female friends, just back in town after a year long stay in switzerland. some sort of student exchange. these girls (i can call them this becuase they were about 20) were quite nice and very westernized. normally i feel like i have to tread lightly around indian girls, who often seem shy and easily shocked by swearing and drinking and such. not so with these two. in fact they're coming over to my place for V's birthday party on friday and have even asked if they can spend the night. scandalous! i will be the talk of the building on saturday.

i get stared at a lot when i'm alone, but walking down the street with the provocatively (again, by indian standards) dressed indian girls drew more stares and even some catcalls. local men would try to "help" the girls (with what is unclear), assuming they were tourists. the girls seemed both amused and slightly annoyed by this.

while everyone was pleasant enough, i realized i'm really starting to miss people my age. everyone i hang out is 23 or less. well, V is 28 actually, but he seems 23. i miss adult conversation.

(here i should point out that among my most satisfying conversations on this entire trip were those i had with an 18 year old english woman i met in vietnam. i'm still freaked out by her.)

rickshaw fight

ok, so i've fallen a bit behind. not a whole lot of stuff to report anyway. even in india, new and exciting things don't happen every day. but there have been a few mildly interesting happenings:

a rickshaw driver corralled us coming out of a club at the usual 11pm ejection time and insisted he knew of a place that 1) was open until 2am, and that 2) he could get us in for free, instead of us paying the high cover. V and B seemed more enthusiastic about this than i did, and in particular, i never trust auto-rickshaw drivers. B made it clear that we should know that there's always a risk of the auto taking us to somewhere we'd be jumped by thugs, but this did not particularly concern me. i was more concerned about clearly negotiating the terms of our contract with the driver.

our agreement turned out like this:
he takes us to the place
1) if we don't like the place, he brings us back, we pay "whatever we want"
2) if we can't get in for free, he brings us back, we pay nothing.
3) if it closes before 2am, he brings us back, we pay nothing.
4) if all of the above works out he waits for us, we pay him the cover charge for one person, or 300 rupees. this is a damn good fare.

during our drive i reviewed the contract with our driver a few times. "yes, yes" was the constant refrain. along the way, he tried upselling us, offering hookers and drugs at ridiculous prices. i declined for all of us.

we arrived at a very posh hotel, and the driver walked us in and took us to the "secret free entrance" which was neither secret nor free. the charge was 300 each, and we could get in for 15 more minutes and be served no more drinks. obviously our driver was completely full of shit. "take us home", i said. even though our agreement said we should pay him nothing, i knew this would cause grief, so i decided i would pay him 70, which is slightly more than the usual fare for the journey we took. more than fair, yes?

no. i gave the driver the money and he looked disgusted and shoved the cash back in my face. he wanted 500. he said something along the lines that we didn't have to pay his "service charge", but we still owned him his fare. that it wasn't his fault the place was closed?! what an asshole. the security guy from my building came out and a full on argument ensued. the fight was mostly in kannada so i couldn't understand most of it, but B told me that the security guy was saying we should pay the driver, which i find kind of hard to believe would be true. why would he take the side of a rickshaw driver (notoriously corrupt) over the guy who lives in the building he works in? V as usual gave the racist explanations that indians will always help indians over the white man, something i've seen proven false time and again. anyway, B was making the stupid argument that we paid him 70 and that's a good rate for the distance travelled, rather than pointing out that the agreement called for paying him nothing. i told the guys it was time to stop dealing with this pinhead and go inside. we did and mere seconds later the guy was pounding on my door and ringing the bell. this went on for half an hour. i was annoyed that building "security" had let this guy in at all. V disabled my doorbell. eventually the driver got tired and went home. this kind of thing just happens with rickshaw drivers from time to time. it's best to use the meter when you can (nearly impossible late at night) and not bother with "special agreements", which are seemingly never binding if they don't work out in the drivers favor.

dinner party

after 40 minutes trying to find a rickshaw that would take us for a reasonable price (no one would use the meter) we arrived at V's new place for spaghetti carbonara cooked up by a real italian. V hadn't purchased much furniture yet so we sat on his floor and ate. yum. B, B2 and A were there, and even B's sari-clad indian girlfriend showed up, disproving my theory that she didn't really exist. she mostly stayed in the kitchen helping V cook and clean. i felt bad about this and made a few attempts to emancipate her, but she declined. we we're all drinking and eating pork, two things i later learned she disapproves of, so she was probably happier away from us. why she's shacking up with a pork/beef eating swedish drinker is unclear.

seeing V's place, i realized how badly i'm being ripped off. his place is a brand new 2 bedroom, 2 bath place for 6000 a month (about $150). Mine is a 1 bed, 1 bath, older place and i pay 15000. sure, my rooms are much bigger and furnished and i am in the city center. still, if i were going to be here for 2 years like these guys, i'd definitely move, despite the rickshaw hassle. speaking of which, the evening ended at 1am, and i walked out to find a rickshaw, but the streets were deserted. i stood and waited, slowly coming to terms with the idea of sleeping on V's floor, when a lone rickshaw appeared and only charged me double the meter for a ride home. we shared the road with a few cows and no one else. easily my most pleasant ride in india so far.

hospital visit

i still feel some pain in my ankle, so i went to a well-respected local orthopedic hospital. it was all a bit chaotic. i registered at the counter, sat and waited. there was significant human stink nearby, so i moved around until i found a stink free zone. my name was called 10 minutes later but this wasn't to see the doctor--it was to pre-pay my bill. i waited in the cashier line, fighting back the usual queue jumping bastards (most of whom were injured in some way and therefore relatively manageable). i paid, then sat down for another half hour, wondering if i'd been scammed or forgotten, when my name was called again. i met with doctor prasad, who told me my ankle could easily take 6 months to heal. quite a contrast to my second vietnamese doctor who told me one week. i mentioned the slight pain in my elbow i've had for 6 months. he asked me if i played tennis. i told him, no, i was injured when i punched a guy (which is true). turns out i have tennis elbow anyway. unfortunately there isn't anything called fighter's elbow.

the doctor ordered x-rays. the x-ray people told me to go to the cashier. i returned with my proof-of-payment and hopped up on the x-ray table. they forced me to recline and rest my head on the grubby community pillow. 5 indians surrounded me, each taking a turn moving my foot by some miniscule amount. they covered my nads and scurried off to hide and take pictures. this process was repeated until they had 3 pictures of my ankle and 2 of my elbow.

back to the waiting room. bored, i studied the bad hotel room style art on the walls and a painting of an agonized thorn-crowned jesus, thinking how much more pleasant it would be to see a happy lord krishna or ganesh. finally i went back to the doc, who spent all of 5 seconds looking at my x-rays and told me nothing was broken. he showed me some exercises i could do to rehabilitate both body parts. he prescribed swimming and long walks on the beach. i reminded him that the nearest beach is about 8 hours away by train. he ordered me up some physical therapy and an arm brace. i went to the pharmacy (next to the waiting room) and showed them the brace order. they printed up a bill, which i had to take to the now familiar cashier. i paid, brought the receipt back to the pharmacist, got the brace, then back to the doctor. turns out they gave me a wrist brace. back to the pharmacy with the doctor, who scolded the incompetent pharmacist and got the correct brace. back to the doctor's office, where he put on the brace and told me stories of his family in america and gave me his phone number. nice guy.

3 hours elapsed time. total cost for everything: $11

note that this is less than the $15 co-pay i would have had to fork over had i used my fancy US health insurance. actually the telephone charges to get pre-approval would probably have cost more than $11.

haven't had a chance to visit the phyical therapist yet.

more than i (and now you) needed to know

friday: fun at purple haze. i stumbled across the mysterious retro "second floor" which according to rumor is a drug haven that lets in westerners and well-connected indians only. i discovered it by accident on my way to meet a co-worker buddy on the hard rockin' 3rd floor, so i didn't have time to test the claims. lots of depressing metallica on this particular night.

saturday: fun at an exclusive ultra fancy nightclub. plush couches, classy decor, and a bar covered in rose petals for christ's sake. B's indian friend G got us in. bangalore's pretty people came out in droves. i had the best manhattan i've found in india thus far, though it still wasn't quite right and cost a whopping 250 rupees ($6). that's the price of half a month's lunches at the office.

sunday: fun at pecos. B2 & A, who i met on my very first day in bangalore, returned from their india tour. met them and others for beefy lunch and fermented beverages. i learned that one day in belgium during a festival a few years back, the geeky and scraggly B2 drank 100 beers, french kissed 25 chicks & 9 dudes, penetrated 3 girls (no guys, apparently), and vomited 4 times (these numbers were recorded by a secretary documenting each "accomplishment"). i found the vomiting/tonguing combo to be especially loathsome, but B2 insisted that the beer cleaned you right up. B2 got the record for beer and tonguing dudes. i hope he doesn't mind me sharing this remarkable feat.

monday: haunted all day by what i learned on sunday.